


Glory of Love

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, M/M, Nevactacus, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-12-04 02:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Caractacus learns about the existence of glory holes while he and Nevada are in a bar bathroom.Sorry about the title, I couldn't help myself.For Rose's birthday (a day late, sorry!) since it's her fault I ever got into writing these idiots being in love ;)





	Glory of Love

“What’s wrong with you?” Nevada asked. He was standing beside the door with his arms crossed over his chest, his leather jacket stretched tight.

“Nothing,” Caractacus said as he washed his hands at the cracked, stained sink.

“You’re a shitty liar, _Chiflado_,” Nevada accused. He paused. “_Qué_, you don’t like this place?”

Caractacus looked sideways at him. “I am capable of going to the bathroom without supervision, you know,” he said.

“Maybe I like watching you piss.”

Caractacus rolled his eyes and shut off the water. “Or you don’t trust me.”

As if on cue, the door opened inward. Nevada, with lightning-quick reflexes that never failed to amaze Caractacus, unfolded his arms and grabbed the edge of the door. The man on the other side thudded into the wood with a surprised sound and a curse.

“_Ocupado, amigo_,” Nevada said, glaring into the opening.

“What the—”

“Piss in the alley,” Nevada said, slamming the door shut. He turned back toward Caractacus and re-crossed his arms. He cocked an eyebrow as if to say, _see?_ “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

“You can’t threaten every guy who might stand next to me at a urinal,” Caractacus said, exasperated.

“You say that funny.”

“What?”

“_Urinal_,” Nevada said, mocking Caractacus’s pronunciation.

Caractacus snatched a paper towel with an angry flick of his wrist and quickly dried his hands. “No, I don’t like this place,” he said. He turned to face Nevada and saw the surprise on the other man’s face. He wasn’t usually so blunt; Caractacus was generally amiable and eager to please, but now his brows were drawn down into a scowl. “The floor is sticky,” he said. “And it smells like…I don’t know, gym socks.”

“Gym socks?” Nevada repeated with a laugh. “Well, it ain’t the Ritz, I’ll give ya that.”

“And the people here…” Caractacus trailed off, and Nevada could see him making an effort to compose himself.

“Don’t stop now,” Nevada urged in a silky, dangerous voice. “What about the people, _Chiflado_?”

“You say this is someplace you used to frequent but even _you_ don’t really like them.”

“I don’t like anyone.”

Caractacus gave him a knowing look that made Nevada bristle. “You don’t trust them.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Nevada snapped. He glared at Caractacus. “Not with you,” he added.

Caractacus’s posture softened a bit. “You don’t have to hang around with people like this anymore, Vada,” he said. He paused, but Nevada didn’t answer. Caractacus sighed under the weight of the other man’s glare. “The kind of people who…Look, someone cut a hole in the wall,” he said, gesturing behind himself toward the stall. “There’s not even a _door_ on the stall. What’s the point? To be destructive—”

“It’s a glory hole,” Nevada cut in, his expression now trapped somewhere between annoyance and amusement.

“A…what?”

“Glory hole,” Nevada repeated slowly, staring at him in disbelief. When the confusion didn’t ease from Caractacus’s face, Nevada shook his head and muttered a string of Spanish under his breath.

“Did you just call me a virgin?”

“_Si no supiera mejor_. But how you managed to father children I swear _no lo sé_.”

“Well…for starters they’re twins, so I only had to succeed once,” Caractacus said, and Nevada’s lips quirked in reluctant amusement. “But what does that—”

“You stick your dick in the hole, Crackpot,” Nevada cut in. He uncrossed his arms and smoothed the front of his jacket. “Guy on the other side sucks it.”

“People _do that_?” Caractacus exclaimed. He turned to look at the hole. “_Why_?”

“Why?” Nevada repeated. “Why…would someone want their dick sucked? You might as well ask why I keep you around.”

Caractacus looked back at him, and Nevada could see the blooms of color that had risen into the inventor’s cheeks. “I meant why cut a hole in the wall. Why not just do it out here? Or anywhere there’s not a…” His gaze sharpened on Nevada’s face. “Have you done it?”

Nevada shrugged, resisting the sudden and uncharacteristic urge to fidget. “Sure.” He watched Caractacus mull that over in silence. “Wanna try it?” Nevada asked, deliberately taunting.

“I can suck your dick at home,” Caractacus mumbled.

“The point of a glory hole is you don’t have to see the other person,” Nevada said. “You can pretend it’s anyone.”

“Oh.”

Nevada scowled. He liked the stain of color in Caractacus’s cheeks, but Caractacus seemed genuinely upset. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. It works both ways, you know. You can pretend you’re sucking any dick in the world.”

Caractacus didn’t answer, so Nevada reached over and deliberately locked the door. Caractacus rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Sure, alright,” he said.

Nevada, who’d expected him to at least balk, was surprised. “What?”

“Why not?” Caractacus asked. He slipped out of his jacket and laid it over the top of the garbage can, turning back toward the stall. “If it’ll make you happy. Then maybe we can get out of here.”

Nevada crossed the floor quickly, coming up behind Caractacus and circling an arm around his waist. He pulled Caractacus flush against himself, and Caractacus made a soft sound when he felt the bulge straining against Nevada’s tight fly.

“If it’ll make me happy?” Nevada murmured in a low voice. He rubbed himself against Caractacus for a few moments. Caractacus’s back arched a bit so he could press himself more firmly against Nevada, and Nevada had to bite back a groan. Nevada had had no intention of getting his dick sucked in the bar bathroom tonight—through a hole in the wall or otherwise—but the thought of Caractacus on his knees never failed to make him hard.

“Sure,” Caractacus repeated, letting his head drop back onto Nevada’s shoulder. Nevada took immediate advantage, sliding his hand up the other man’s chest and curving his fingers around Caractacus’s exposed throat. He tightened his grip just enough to cause a hitch in Caractacus’s breath and then relented. This wasn’t the time or place. He stroked his thumb along Caractacus’s jugular and a small shiver passed through the inventor’s body.

“_Podemos ir a casa_,” Nevada allowed, deciding to show mercy. He would have much freer reign over Caractacus’s body at home, anyway.

Caractacus pulled away. Nevada let him go but blinked in surprise at the sudden absence. “You can close your eyes and pretend I’m someone else just as easily at home,” Caractacus said, and he disappeared into the stall.

Nevada fisted his hands at his sides. Caractacus’s petulance made his temper flare; Nevada wasn’t going to admit that it was anything else. “You really gonna pout, _Chiflado_?”

“Stick your dick in my mouth and feel if I’m pouting,” Caractacus shot back.

Nevada’s eyes widened and his erection throbbed in the tight confines of his jeans. “After everything I do for you, this is how you talk to me?” he asked, walking slowly toward the wall of the stall.

“Punish me later if you want,” Caractacus returned, and Nevada’s cock twitched again. He could see movement through the hole in the wall as Caractacus sank into position on the other side.

“Stick your ass up to the hole,” Nevada ordered.

“No,” Caractacus returned, earning a sharp intake of breath from Nevada at the blatant refusal to obey. “With the wall between us you won’t get deep enough to do either of us any good.”

Nevada unbuckled his belt. He needed relief, but there wasn’t a chance he was going to let this insolence go unaddressed. “When we get home I’m gonna fuck you so hard and deep you won’t sit for a week.”

“Promises,” Caractacus taunted from the other side of the wall.

“Okay.” Nevada stepped up close to the wall as he unzipped his jeans, wanting to be sure Caractacus heard the gritty metal sound. “Okay, _Chiflado_.” He pulled himself free from his jeans and waggled his erection in front of the glory hole; he knew Caractacus was watching even if Nevada couldn’t see him. “I see we need to shut you up.”

“Don’t be a tease,” Caractacus griped, and Nevada snorted. He couldn’t help the smile that quirked his lips, although he was glad Caractacus couldn’t see it.

Nevada slipped his cock through the opening and let his heavy erection rest on the bottom curve of the hole. He waited, but Caractacus didn’t immediately touch him. He felt a soft puff of breath tickle his hot skin. “Now who’s being a tease,” he accused, scowling at the wall. It was frustrating that Caractacus couldn’t see his scowl, and Nevada flattened his palms against the cool surface.

His cock twitched when Caractacus finally touched him, running a single finger along the underside of his shaft, following the uneven course of a vein. “I can’t get to your balls,” Caractacus murmured, more to himself than Nevada. He sounded disappointed, and Nevada almost laughed. His cock throbbed; as much as he didn’t like to admit it to himself, there was little that Nevada found more attractive than how much Caractacus enjoyed getting him off. If sucking cock could ever be considered an artform, Caractacus was Leonardo fucking DaVinci.

“Never been a problem before,” Nevada goaded. He knew the words were mean—far meaner than Caractacus deserved, a reminder that Nevada had been in this position before with other men, strangers—and he almost called them back. He clenched his teeth against the impulse.

“Hm,” was the only response he heard from the other side of the wall, a soft hum with no discernible inflection. Nevada found himself wishing he could see the other man’s face so he could read his reactions. So they could reach each _other’s_ reactions.

Nevada opened his mouth but was saved from saying something embarrassing, issuing only a grunt instead when Caractacus licked softly at his tip. Nevada’s cock answered immediately with a pulse of precum, and Nevada closed his eyes as Caractacus lapped up the offering without hesitation.

Nevada expected the other man to swallow his length and make quick work of it; Caractacus wanted to get home, after all, even if he was anticipating a punishment once they got there. Caractacus’s tongue was slow and teasing, though, running up one side of Nevada’s cock and down the other, swirling lightly around his head with just enough pressure to make Nevada’s hands curl into fists against the stall wall.

Caractacus trailed his lips along the underside of Nevada’s erection. He wasn’t touching Nevada with so much as a finger, and Nevada wished he could see the other man bending and twisting to get his face under Nevada’a cock. Another pulse of precum followed the mental image. Caractacus was there to catch it with impressive reflexes.

Nevada shouldn’t be surprised that Caractacus knew his cock so well; he’d certainly spent more time with it than anyone else ever had, learning what every twitch and throb meant, memorizing all the important pressure points. Caractacus could probably sculpt a model of it. With his tongue.

Nevada smirked at the thought, but his smile vanished when Caractacus finally closed his lips around the flared head of Nevada’s erection. Caractacus sucked, but lightly. He knew what Nevada wanted but wasn’t ready to give it to him yet, and Nevada pushed his hips forward, making a sound of frustration when they hit the wall. Caractacus, out of sight, moved with him. Nevada’s fingers itched to curl into his hair and hold him in place. He would have Caractacus gagging on his length in an instant—

Caractacus grazed his teeth along Nevada’s sensitive skin, his mouth tightening briefly as he swallowed the resultant spurt of salty ejaculate. Nevada spread his feet wider on the sticky floor and moved his hands up to curl his fingers over the top of the stall wall. He pressed his pelvis into the wall to give Caractacus access to as much of him as possible. He considered reaching down to give his balls a little massage—he could speed the process along, maybe even manage to surprise Caractacus—but dismissed the idea. He told himself it was because Caractacus was supposed to be doing the work—if Nevada wanted to jack himself off he wouldn’t need the other man, would he?—but he knew it was more than that.

He was curious and, in spite of himself, he trusted Caractacus. Nevada had never really trusted anyone in his life, and it made him uncomfortable to think about how much power he’d given Caractacus.

Caractacus continued to tease him, licking and sucking and nipping lightly, refusing to give Nevada enough contact or pressure to satisfy him. Nevada drew back a little and pushed himself forward. The wall shook on its braces and creaked, but Caractacus anticipated the move and eluded him.

Nevada cursed under his breath and closed his eyes.

“Talking sort of ruins the illusion,” Caractacus said.

Nevada’s eyes opened. “_Qué_?” he asked, almost cautiously. He felt a flush of heat creeping up his neck; he knew exactly what Caractacus meant.

“If I’m supposed to be able to imagine this is someone else’s dick, you’re going to need to stop talking.”

Nevada’s hands tightened on the wall until the metal was biting the pads of his palms. His temples thudded dully at the merest _suggestion_ that Caractacus wanted anyone else’s dick in his mouth. He started to draw back. Despite his need for release, he couldn’t let that stand. If anyone other than Caractacus had said such a thing to him, Nevada would already have him begging for a show of mercy.

Caractacus wrapped his fingers around Nevada’s cock, stopping his withdrawal with a tight fist that made Nevada grunt in surprise.

“_Chiflado_,” Nevada said, and there was no mistaking the edge of warning in his voice. Before he could say anything else, Caractacus’s fingers were gone and his mouth closed around Nevada, swallowing him all the way to the barrier of the wall. Nevada’s hips jerked forward, shaking the wall. His back was arched, pressing his stomach into the side of the stall; he could feel the cool metal through the silk of his shirt, and he wished he’d taken off the constricting jacket. The leather tightened across his biceps as he held the top of the wall in a death-grip.

Caractacus was moving hard and fast now, hitting all the right spots, more than making up for the fact that he couldn’t use his hands or get to any of the other erogenous zones he’d discovered during his explorations of Nevada’s body. Nevada tried to thrust—the movement was mostly involuntary, but he was beyond caring about keeping up appearances—and cursed the barrier of the wall a hundred times over in his mind. He wanted to hit the back of Caractacus’s throat and hear that little sound that was uniquely his. He wanted to watch Caractacus’s eyes swimming with tears as he willingly—eagerly—stretched his throat to accommodate Nevada’s girth. He wanted to feel Caractacus’s silky hair between his fingers.

He thrust his hips again. He was moments away from coming, and he kept his eyes closed, holding the image of Caractacus’s face in his mind: cheeks flushed red, forehead beaded with sweat, eyes shimmering, nostrils flared wide, lips tight around the cock stuffed in his mouth—

And suddenly Caractacus stopped again. His mouth hung loosely around Nevada’s throbbing erection, just enough to let Nevada know he was still _there_.

Nevada could pull back and finish himself off in a few strokes, but he didn’t want to come in the embrace of his own fist. He knew that Caractacus didn’t want that, either, and in a flash of intuition Nevada finally understood the point of all of this—the teasing, the attitude, all of it.

Nevada swallowed hard. He weighed his options for only a moment, and a single word left his tongue before he was aware of making a conscious decision: “_Chiflado_.”

It was all that Caractacus—who asked for so little, really—wanted: an acknowledgement that it was _him_ that Nevada was thinking about, _him_ that Nevada wanted, _him_ that had the exclusive power to make Nevada fall apart and lose his precious defenses.

Caractacus made a small sound of approval and went to work, finishing Nevada off quickly. Nevada’s forehead dropped against the cool wall as his thighs tensed, and he clung to the wall as his orgasm rolled through his body. He barely heard the creaking of the wall, barely heard the knock on the door or the curses as someone tried unsuccessfully to open it. All he could hear was the satisfied humming sound that Caractacus always made while swallowing Nevada’s cum, and that familiar sound made him throb again and again until Caractacus had sucked him dry.

When Caractacus released him, Nevada stepped back from the wall, pulling his spent cock from the hole and stuffing it unceremoniously back into his tight jeans. He heard the rustle of clothing as Caractacus got to his feet, and a moment later the inventor stepped into view out of the stall. He brushed fussily at his shirt to smooth it and glanced down at his knees with a wrinkle of his nose.

His lips were wet and glistening, and a droplet of cum was clinging to the corner of his mouth. While Nevada watched, Caractacus’s tongue darted out to lick it away, and Nevada’s dick gave a last little twitch at the sight.

Caractacus had a considerable bulge distending the front of his colorful slacks. Pleasuring Nevada always made Caractacus hard, a gift for which Nevada was more grateful than he was willing to put into words.

Caractacus looked up, finally meeting his eyes. His expression was defiant. “Definitely tastes like you,” he said.

Nevada growled low in his throat and moved forward, backing the other man up against the wall. “You made your point,” he said.

Caractacus was flattened against the wall with Nevada’s arm braced across his chest, but there was no fear in his expression. They were well past that now. For better or worse, Nevada had proven time and again that he wouldn’t hurt Caractacus—not in any _real_ way. He took pleasure from Caractacus’s pain only when it was given willingly.

“What point is that?” Caractacus asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You belong to me,” Nevada said quietly, reaching down between them to palm the other man’s erection. “You don’t _think_ about anyone else touching you.”

Caractacus leaned his head back against the wall, his lips parting, his lids drooping as Nevada fondled him for a few moments. “You know I wouldn’t,” he breathed when Nevada drew his hand away. Caractacus’s pupils were wide, his expression tight with desire, but he didn’t object to being left unsatisfied. “Now come on, can we please get out of this place?” He started to move and Nevada pushed him back, forcing a grunt out of him.

“And I don’t think about touching anyone else,” Nevada said. Caractacus wouldn’t ask for, let alone demand, the words. For Caractacus, _you belong to me_ was enough of a declaration from Nevada, and Nevada was fully aware that he didn’t deserve someone so kind and honest and open, so giving and selfless.

Caractacus’s expression softened, his lips curving into a beautiful smile as he searched Nevada’s eyes. He leaned his head forward to claim a kiss, and Nevada indulged him with a soft brush of lip against lip, a teasing sweep of his tongue.

“Don’t think this lets you off the hook, _Chiflado_,” he murmured, and Caractacus dropped his head back against the wall again, grinning.

“Yeah, I know—I won’t sit for a week.”

“We’ll talk about your punishment at home,” Nevada said. His gaze slid to Caractacus’s throat, and Caractacus tipped his chin a little higher. “Such a tease,” Nevada murmured, itching to mark the expanse of pale skin. He shoved the impulse aside for the moment and met Caractacus’s hooded stare. “We don’t have to come here anymore.”

Caractacus’s smile was sweet. “Turns out it’s not so bad,” he said, and Nevada huffed in exasperation, rolling his eyes. “Maybe we can rig something up at home.”

“No,” Nevada answered immediately. He narrowed his eyes when Caractacus’s smile widened. “No walls.” He was aware of the double meaning after the words left his mouth, but he didn’t bother trying to take them back. Instead he stepped away and glanced down, quickly buckling his belt. Caractacus retrieved his jacket and threw it over a shoulder, walking toward the door with no apparent concern about the noticeable bulge in his pants.

Nevada cursed and caught up to him in two strides. “_Quédate cerca_, _Chiflado_. Don’t let anyone get any ideas.”

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” Caractacus teased. He bit back a yelp when Nevada pinched his ass, hard. He was laughing as he unlocked and opened the door, but his cheeks were pink. He wasn’t as unembarrassed about his arousal—or the prospect of walking through the crowded bar with everyone knowing exactly what they’d been doing in the locked bathroom—as he was trying to appear.

Nevada decided to take advantage. As they stepped out of the bathroom, he leaned close to Caractacus’s ear and whispered, “Maybe it’s time I learn how you taste, too.”

Caractacus made a strangled noise, his eyes widening as he looked at Nevada.

Nevada laughed, the sound rumbling from his chest, and he patted Caractacus’s ass before slipping a hand into the inventor’s back pocket in a show of possessiveness. “After your punishment,” he added, grinning when Caractacus had to tug at his pants before he could walk.

They moved through the bar together, but Nevada forgot to glare at the other patrons in warning; all of his senses were tuned to the man pressed close to his side, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of what was to come.


End file.
